He Is Not Great Who

Ross You Must Have Patience, Madam. Lady Macduff He Had None: His Flight Was Madness: When Our Actions Do Not, Our Fears Do Make Us Traitors.

It Was A Lover And His Lass, With A Hey, And A Ho, And A Hey Nonino, That O'er The Green Corn-field Did Pass, In The Spring Time, The Only Pretty Ring Time, When Birds Do Sing, Hey Ding A Ding, Ding; Sweet Lovers Love The Spring.

The Gates Of Monarchs Are Arched So High That Giants May Jet Through And Keep Their Impious Turbans On Without Good Morrow To The Sun.

Can I Go Forward When My Heart Is Here? Turn Back, Dull Earth, And Find Thy Centre Out.

It Is Meant That Noble Minds Keep Ever With Their Likes; For Who So Firm That Cannot Be Seduced.